


HTTYD3 FixIt: How to Crown A Dragon King, Chapter One

by Jayalaw



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Deviation, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, how to train your dragon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:41:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29253870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayalaw/pseuds/Jayalaw
Summary: A deviation of the third movie, and what I wish would have happened.It's been five years since Hiccup defeated Drago Bludivist, found his mother Valka, avenged his father Stoick the Vast, and taken up the mantle of Berk's chief. He has spent the time rescuing dragons from the remains of Drago's army.One former Trapper, Grimmel the Grisly, has plans on how to upstage and defeat the dragon rescuer. His plan leads to Hiccup going to the Isle of Tomorrow, where his ancestors once rules.
Relationships: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III/Astrid Hofferson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

_Written originally for Jettara._

This was Berk. He had heard of it. That was where his great-great-great-uncle had gone to, after his great-great-grandfather had been exiled to the seas beyond the Archipelago. And so generations of Vikings had stayed on that lovely but ultimately deficient island.

So much time had passed. In that time, the walls on Tomorrow had crumbled, and memories had washed away with the tides. Grimmel could almost feel his footsteps on that island, and see the plans in his mind of news worlds.

Now he had a plan. Berk claimed that it had the way to train dragons, and it would rescue the beasts from the tribes that would not listen. Drago hated them for that, and had paid for his life. Grimmel had heard complaints from the remains of Drago's army, the leaders who craved power. They hired him to take out the “demon chief” and his dragon.

It wasn’t that much different from hunting a dragon. It was a matter of waiting. All Grimmel had to do was tweak the method. He wanted his prey alive, after all.

* * *

It had been a long day. Hiccup's clothes were scorched from this raid, despite the dragon-scales making his suit fireproof. It didn't stop the heat, though; he would need a new tunic because the heat had managed to leave black marks on his clothes. That meant more trading for fibers, more sewing when his chiefing duties were done. He liked sewing because it helped him sleep at night, but he was running out of clean clothes. His father always made sure to look dignified. 

His father . . . Hiccup gulped down some water. He could only hope Stoick would have approved of this, if he had lived to enjoy this retirement.

"You can't keep raiding tribes," Gobber admonished him. "That's a good way to invite trouble."

"I'm with Gobber on this one," Eret said. "We have created a power vacuum in the Archipelago. People don't like vacuums."

"But the other choice is to do nothing." Hiccup shook his head. "And doing nothing isn't an option." 

"I agree with you, Hiccup," Eret said. "I just fear that we may invite too much trouble. We should target the more distant factions and incapacitate their leaders, so that they can’t bond together. If you were willing to cut off a few heads or two." 

Sweat glistened off Eret’s arms as he placed model boats on a map. Hiccup could have laughed. If five years ago he had thought the Dragon Trapper would advise him on how to save the dragons, then Astrid would have smacked his head. But here Eret was, serving as a second-in-command and helping him dismantle the factions he had once obeyed.

“Besides, you haven’t even spent any time arranging your marriage,” Gobber said.

Hiccup choked on the water he just swallowed. Eret whacked his back.

“We need to wait till the weather is better,” Astrid said, coming to sit with them. “If we want to do the whole nine yards, we have to wait for the winter clouds to pass over us.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Gobber got a steely look. “Your parents are demanding too low a groom-price for Hiccup. The chief of Berk is worth more than a few casks of old mead!”

“Vintage mead,” Hiccup managed between coughs. “Stored through decades of dragon raids.”

Eret whacked his back again. It would leave a fist-shaped bruise when he undressed for the night.

“Look, you and my parents can talk out how much we’re worth,” Astrid said. “Hiccup and I are staying out of it. We have too much to do. Right, honey?”

“Right, right.” Hiccup said. “Let’s go.”

They left in a hurry.

“So, what’s the important thing we need to do now?” Hiccup asked as they walked out of the Great Hall.

“Decide on the names for our kids,” Astrid said. “I want one of them to be named Finn, for my uncle.” 

“They’re staying away from the Flightmares then,” Hiccup said. “We’ve had bad luck with them.”

Astrid punched his arm. He winced; Astrid hit as hard as Eret did.

“Seriously, was that an excuse to get away from Gobber?”

“The man’s not subtle,” Astrid said. “Why should we worry about how much we’re worth in wine or gold or swords? We’re going to be together for the rest of our life. It’s going to be a spring wedding, out in the cove. Then after that, Gothi will officiate us.”

“And we’re going to have lots of cats for good luck,” Hiccup smiled. “So many that Toothless will be buried alive in cats.”

“See? We have it figured out!” she laughed. “Let them decide how they’re going to haggle. I’d rather spend time flying.”

She had a point. Hiccup took in her hair and how the wind caught it at the right angle when it blew. 

“Me too,” he said.

An alarm interrupted them. It was a bracing whistle.

“Fire!” Someone shouted.

“Attack!” Tuffnut shouted, sounding gleeful.

“Oh come on!” Hiccup said with irritation. “We had a day’s head start on the Trappers!”

“We have to go,” Astrid said, frowning. “Rain-check on this.”

She kissed his cheek. Hiccup’s complaining groans faded when he smelled the smoke. Lots of it. Buckets of water fell from their designated posts, but the flames wouldn’t go out.

Berk was on fire.

* * *

Grimmel waited. He sat in a chair that had been coated in dust, showing it had never been used. The water in the jug was stale; the chief must not have come home that day.

Creaking; the door was open. Grimmel waited.

“This was the only house not burning,” a flat voice said. “You were setting a trap here.”

Grimmel smiled. The boy was a stick dressed in leather. He had his father’s eyes, and his mother’s hair. The Night Fury was nowhere in sight, however. Pity.

“Clever boy,” he said.

“Who are you?” Hiccup asked, sword out. “What are you doing here?”

Grimmel finished his water. The stale taste rested on his tongue. He kept his tone level.

“I am the new King of Vikings,” he said. Not a complete lie. “Grimmel the Grisly, Killer of Night Furies, and heir to the throne. Bow to me, sweet Chief.”

“King? Killer of Night Furies” Hiccup’s fingers flipped on his blade. Nevertheless, it came alight.

“Impressive trick,” Grimmel commented. “Flashy, but you don’t want to set things on fire. They belonged to your father. You haven’t sat in this chair, for how long now? A year? Two years?”

“Five. And what’s a king doing alone on Berk?” Hiccup retorted through clenched teeth. “Don’t they normally come with crowns and armies?”

“My army’s outside.” Grimmel waved his hands. “Burning down your home. A king doesn’t need a crown to rule. But they do need subjects. I’m need of your expertise. And now there’s no Stoick the Vast to protect you.”

He stood. The situation was already in the palm of his hands.

“What sort of expertise?” Hiccup approached him, sword ready to strike.

“I seek the last Night Fury. Oh no, this one won’t be killed,” he said at Hiccup’s expression. “Yet. Whoever controls the Alpha, kills the dragons. Word has it you turned one into a spoiled house pet.”

“I’m not giving you Toothless.” Hiccup’s tone was flat, as if he had heard this sentiment multiple times.

Grimmel made a motion as if to rub the back of his neck. It triggered a signal in his suit; a dart shot out and hit Hiccup behind his left ear.

“Argh!” Hiccup dropped his sword. It clattered and fizzled out. He fell to the ground on his knees, convulsing.

“I didn’t say you needed to say yes, boy,” Grimmel said, sauntering over. “Your villagers will do the same. I take their chief hostage, they only get you back alive if they surrender the Night Fury.”

He kicked away the sword before yanking the dart. Hiccup yelped and struggled, sluggishly. He batted his fists at Grimmel, who grabbed them in one gloved hand. He used his other hand to punch Hiccup in the stomach. The boy’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fainted.

“Hiccup!” someone shouted outside. Vikings stormed in, armed to the teeth, with their dragons. Grimmel grinned.

“Give me my son,” the tallest woman said, holding a sword to Grimmel’s neck. The smaller blonde next to him held an axe. They thought they had him surrounded.

“Move an inch and I’ll give him to you in neat chunks,” Grimmel retorted. He only needed that brief second of hesitation. Then he whistled.

Dragons broke through the roof, his red ones. Grimmel hoisted Hiccup on his shoulder as the other dragons shot fire.

The Night Fury growled from above. Other dragons followed, attacking Grimmel’s servants. Grimmel shot a dart at the dragon but knew he didn’t have enough for this army. He whistled again, and his beauties came down, carrying him off.

“You want him alive!” he shouted at the Night Fury. “Come to me before evening tomorrow!”


	2. Chapter 2

Hiccup groaned when he woke up. His head was spinning, and part of him was wondering if Tuffnut had goaded him into another drinking contest with Eret. Except Eret would have refused after how Astrid had threatened to tie all of Berk's men up if they messed with Hiccup's brain again. 

Fire. The sting of a dart. A man sitting in his father's chair. 

Memories returned. He would have shot up straight, except he couldn't move without every muscle complaining of pain. His head ached badly. Cold metal encircled his wrists.

"I was wondering how long you would be out," Grimmel commented. "Normally that drug would make a Gronckle sleep for days."

Hiccup coughed out the foul taste in his mouth. He got his bearings. Wooden boards beneath his cheeks. The glint of nails off iron. They seemed to be in a ship, but he heard no waves lapping against the boards. He pulled himself to a sitting position.

"What is this?" he asked.

"A sky ship," Grimmel said. "My dragons carry it, avoiding the currents and allowing for bulk. Surely you have thought of it."

Hiccup had thought of it. He had once used a shipwreck to ferry baby dragons from where they had hatched on a tropical island. These days, however; the mating cycle was more synchronized; the dragons all went with their riders, had their babies, and returned.

He lifted his head and got to a sitting position. Then he rested his cuffed hands on his good leg. Pain clicked in his brain as he tried to think of how to escape. It was like Grimmel had cut open his forehead and poured alcohol on his brain.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Away," Grimmel said. A tight smile crossed his frame. "You'd best get comfortable, Hiccup. It's going to be a long ride."

"Yeah, no." Hiccup fumbled for the side of the ship. "I think I'd rather tend to those fires that you set. Chief duties, you know."

Grimmel watched. Hiccup tried to pull himself up, ignoring the wobbling feeling in his legs. His head kept spinning like a child's toy.

"Why were you given that name anyway?" Grimmel asked. "Is it meant to sound like a hicc-up? Like the sound you make when you've had too many oysters?"

Grimmel made a hiccuping sound to demonstrate.

"It's tradition to name runts that," Hiccup responded shortly. It brought back a memory, of when he had asked his father the same question.

“Ah, so you were a runt. That explains the tininess,” Grimmel glanced away. “A shame. He was a good chief.”

Unlike you, the rest of the sentence seemed to say.

“He was the best,” Hiccup said, and he knew that it was true.

He managed to glimpse the ocean below puffs of cloud. They were hundreds of feet in the air, and night breezes shot past them. Hiccup tried to think. It made his head throb.

"Just to be clear, you need me alive?" Hiccup asked, trying to sound casual. "Because you want my dragon?"

"I don't need you alive," Grimmel said. "I’ve caught and killed many Night Furies. One more won’t make a difference. The factions that paid me to bring you in would be satisfied with your head probably."

"Sorry, I'd rather keep it," Hiccup said. He leaned against the side of the boat, looking down. Unless he got his hands free, the fall would kill him; he was still wearing the flight suit, but it meant nothing unless he could spread the leathery wings. Still, he had a lockpick somewhere in the suit. If he could struggle for it. Or he could go for a simple solution.

He tripped on his prosthetic as he turned to tackle Grimmel. The man watched as Hiccup fell on his chin, hard. He felt a splinter lodge under the white scar from when he was a baby.

"Did you actually think you'd be up to fight?" Grimmel smirked. "No wonder the other chiefs wanted to underpay me."

"Well, you know Vikings," Hiccup quipped. "We have stubbornness issues."

He swiped with his bound hands. Fists connected with Grimmel's knees, a trick Astrid had taught him. Grimmel grunted as he went down. Hiccup pounced on him the way Sharpshot had. He wrapped the short chain around the man's neck. not enough to strangle him, but enough to hold him.

"Give . . . me . . . the key," Hiccup panted.

Grimmel growled and bucked his thighs. Hiccup yelped as he went sailing through the air. It was only by some miracle that Grimmel didn’t toss him over the side. This time he landed on his shoulder. Below him, the dragons jostled the ship, making it sway through the air. That hurt more. Before he could get up, Grimmel placed a thick boot on his back, pinning him to the ground.

"You don't know when to quit?" he said, no longer smiling.

"Never," Hiccup grunted. "Even if I have to toss myself into the sea, I'm going down fighting."

"That won't be necessary, Chief," a familiar voice said. "We'll do the fighting for you."

Grimmel's expression changed. Eret straddled Skullcrusher, his mouth in a hard line. Astrid hovered beside him, her face promising murder.

"Give me back my fiance," she said.

Grimmel pulled out a sword and pressed it to Hiccup's throat. Hiccup saw his bloodshot eyes in the blade.

"That's not going to work a second time," Astrid said. "We brought along backup."

She whistled. The antlered dragon crashed into the ship. Grimmel and Hiccup yelped as the force tossed them into the air. Strong claws caught Hiccup; Skullcrusher. He wondered when his head would stop spinning.

Stormfly and the antlered dragon released fire on Grimmel's ship. His red dragons grabbed the man and pulled him away into a retreat.

"We got you!" Eret shouted. "Let's get back to Berk!"

"Astrid, come on!" Hiccup called. "We need to stop all the fires."

"We handled the fires!" she called back.

Though it took her visible effort, she turned her dragon around. Skullcrusher dropped Hiccup onto Stormfly, nearly behind Astrid. Hiccup tightened his thighs around the leather saddle.

"Are you hurt?" Astrid asked, twisted her head to look back at him.

"Eh, a few bruises and a splitting headache; nothing that will leave a scar. And I still have my leg! I hope Gobber has a good lockpick." Hiccup lifted his bound hands. "Wasn't able to get to mine."

Astrid grunted in relief. Sweat ran down her hair in streaks, and soot covered her front.

"Where's Toothless?" Hiccup asked.

"Back on Berk," Astrid said. "I didn't want to risk his safety since Grimmel wanted him."

Hiccup nodded in thanks. It's what he would have done. Poor Toothless must be tearing up the floorboards while pacing Berk.

"Who was that guy?" she asked. "He sneaked past all our defenses."

"Grimmel," Eret said. "One of Drago's top Trappers, except for yours truly. A man who enjoys the thrill of the hunt. It would be like him to infiltrate the village and set everything on fire. We're just lucky he didn't get far."

"How far DID he get?" Hiccup eyed the sea.

"Quite a bit but Skullcrusher and Stormfly were fast," Astrid said. "It's fine. We'll double the defenses. And we'll rebuild. We always do."

Hiccup relaxed. He wanted two blocks of ice for his head, and to sleep the next twenty hours away. And he wanted to ask Eret more about Grimmel. Part of him wanted to recall what King of Vikings was, and why the man wanted Toothless. But for now, things were calm. He was safe. Toothless was as well.

* * *

Gothi looked over Hiccup, after she shoved a metal tankard in his hand with mead and gestured at him to drink up. Hiccup tried, but the alcohol was too strong so he managed a few sips. His hands still ached despite Gobber using blacksmith tools to remove the cuffs. Gothi ran her thin fingers over the puncture wound in his neck. She frowned. A Terrible Terror, one of her dozens, was dozing in her hair. It snored as she moved, making a strange growling sound.

Toothless had already come and given Hiccup a thorough tongue bath; he was checking on all the dragons now, to make sure none were hurt and missing. All the Vikings huddled there in the cove. The last of Grimmel’s were burning the remains of the village down. Hiccup could still see the orange glow in the sky.

“We tried putting the fires out,” Fishlegs said. “The water didn’t work. The dragons somehow managed to gather dirt from the woods and toss it. Most of the ashes are greasy.”

“I’ll take a look at them tomorrow,” Hiccup frowned. “A fire that water can’t douse. We need to look into it.”

“Probably oil-based,” Eret mused. “I’ve seen those sorts of flames when you want to burn something and make sure it never comes back.”

“It’s too late to rebuild,” Snotlout said. “I’m going to KILL Grimmel! He burned down all my shinies!”

“We can camp here for tonight,” Hiccup said, tilting his head so Gothi could look closer. “Any casualties?”

“Fortunately, no,” Gobber said. “We’ve been so used to fires that first sign of smoke, and we’re all out there. But there was a close call with some of the children.”

Hiccup gulped. He managed some mead to go with that swallow.

Gothi narrowed her eyes. She drew in the dirt.

“Can someone get us a light?” Hiccup called. Someone brought a torch over. “How bad is it, Gothi?”

“She says that you’re banged up, nothing that a little sleep can’t fix,” Gobber said. “Obviously she orders a full night’s sleep, lots of herbs and bath salts, and take a break from chiefing duties tomorrow.”

“I can’t take a break,” Hiccup said. “We just got attacked! By someone who slipped past our defenses and burned down our village! We need to rebuild, and reinforce the island. No one else is going to sleep tonight - ow!”

Fortunately Gothi missed whacking him on his injured side. But she glared at him. The Terror opened one lazy eye to glare as well. The pupil glowed a fierce red.

“Doctor’s orders, Hiccup,” Gobber quipped. “I’d suggest listening to her.”

“We’ll take care of the rebuilding,” Astrid said. “We did use to run the firefighting squad.”

“Grimmel doesn’t take defeat well,” Eret said. “It is unlikely, however, that he will make a repeat attempt with how his ship was damaged. He likes to be the predator, not the prey. The Crimson Goregutter bought us time, a day at least.” “He called himself King of VIkings,” Hiccup said. “My father’s books have that term. I know it sounds familiar.”

Toothless bounded towards them. The dragon looked sobering. Hiccup reached toward him.

“You did your best, Bud,” he said. “This was an enemy we didn’t see coming at all. But we know now. And we’ll learn.” 


	3. Chapter 3

Sobs. The sound of a man weeping over a fire. Hiccup as a child had heard that sound too many times. No matter how many times Stoick tried to cover his mouth or use a pillow, the noise roused his son.

He sneaked down quietly. Stoick had told him that if he didn’t get sleep, he would never grow. But no one should be crying alone. 

“You should get some sleep, son,” Stoick said, wiping his eyes.

“I was thirsty,” Hiccup lied. In truth, he was having bad dreams because he was a light sleeper, and his dad crying always woke him. Hiccup was too little to figure out if he preferred the dreams or seeing his dad’s echoed misery.

Stoick considered. He pulled a worn book from the shelf, one that they had pored over during many sleepless nights. Hiccup crawled onto his lap, out of habit. Stoick flipped the pages. They started reading about ancient heroes. Hiccup pressed his fingers to each rune, sounding them out in his high-pitched voice,.

“Do you think we need a King of Vikings?” Hiccup asked, as they came across the tale of their ancestor who had come to Berk. He was a stout man named Chucklehead, who was a bit dim in the brain but had a good heart. He always looked so sad in the drawings.

“We may. A King of Vikings only emerges when all the tribes agree to have a leader,” Stoick said. “The problem is that if even one tribe disagrees at a Thing then you have no king. The last time I went to one, I was the only survivor.”

Hiccup peered into his eyes, curiously, to see if his father was joking or not.

“Maybe I could learn to be King,” he said. “Then we don’t have to worry about dragons carrying off moms anymore. Snotlout asked me when we were going to get a new mom.”

Stoick made a grunting, growling sound.

“I could never replace your mother,” he said. “When you love someone, you can never truly replace them.”

Hiccup thought about this. He had wondered about why Snotlout kept asking about why Hiccup didn’t have a new mom.

“You could be King, though.” Stoick took Hiccup’s hand and pressed it to the drawing of Chucklehead overlooking the tiny village that would become Berk. “I think you could reconcile all the tribes, to remind them that we fight for what we love.”

“What’s reconcile?” Hiccup asked.

“You know how Gobber makes rings out of iron? For chainlinks?”

Hiccup nodded. Gobber sometimes watched him when Stoick had to go out and run the village. Sometimes the man would show him all the secrets of being a blacksmith.

“He takes a rod of metal, heats it up, and puts the ends together,” he said. “And he sometimes connects them to other rings, one at a time, to make chainmail.”

“Reconciling with people is like that.” Stoick drew Hiccup’s hand to his heart. “You reach inside, and connect yourself to them. If you are lucky, you form a strong bond, stronger than what the heart can offer.”

“But people aren’t metal,” Hiccup said. “We’re soft and squishy, in between our bones and all.”

Stoick then laughed. Hiccup leaned closer to his father to take in the sound, something he always liked to hear.

“Funny boy,” he said. “No, we Vikings aren’t metal. That is what makes it harder and easier. But we can come together, and make links like metal does. You would be a great king, if you can make me laugh at two in the morning.”

Hiccup wasn’t sure what that meant. But he liked feeling the warmth of his father’s heart. It beat steadily, reminding him that his dad was there, and always would be.

* * *

Hiccup rummaged through the damaged floorboards. His father’s books were always buried in the basement, to keep them safe from dragonfire. Hiccup had lost his books, accumulated over years of trading, to Grimmel’s fire. He mourned the scraps of paper that fluttered with the ashes and embers.

Toothless was standing guard outside, in case Gothi or her Terrors appeared, and learned that Hiccup wasn’t resting. They had both stuffed his sleeping bag with toys that his mother had sewn over the past five years, of all dragons. Eret and Astrid were already doing all they could to make sure that Hiccup didn’t have to oversee the rebuilding. The twins had threatened to cause more chaos if Hiccup tried to go flying after Grimmel. Visiting the remains of the chief’s hut was all he could do without arousing anyone’s suspicion because they’d assume he was still in bed, and the burned walls shielded him. Toothless would have some low warbles if anyone came.

The old book was still there, if a little dusty, nestled between an old ledger of weapons from Trader Johann. Hiccup wiped off the years of unuse and flipped the pages. The corners were crinkled and the spine had cracked, but it still reminded him of home. Of the nights when things between him and his dad were simple. He had memories of wanting to go down there many times as a child, but in time he lost interest because the books never changed. Nor did their meanings. Stoick didn’t mind reading, but he never had time to seek new books.

Chucklehead’s drawing had seen better days. His illustration was wrinkled. The man actually didn’t look like a chuckling man, even if the books described him as such. That sad expression hung on his face, and in his drooping shoulders. The words said he had never learned to read, but his children had, and often they would dictate letters for him.

Hiccup traced the illustration, and the carefully hand-printed words. He could hardly believe his fingers were thicker than the letters now, when before they had been as thin as bird claws. 

He reread the tale of Chucklehead. Now that he was older, he realized that the book was in worse condition. There were lots of ink stains that he hadn’t noticed as a child, that sometimes blotted out entire names and words. He flipped to one page that was supposed to be the Haddock family tree, and most of the names between his great-great-grandfather and his father were blacked out. Stoick must have skipped out those pages.

Then he noticed two pages were stuck together. Hiccup reached and gently opened them. They came apart with a crackling rustle.

Both of the pages were covered in decades-old charcoal and ink. Hiccup rubbed at them and smeared ink on his fingers. He’d need an expert book restorer to see what had been blacked out. His father must have deliberately avoided this page, because Hiccup as a child would have insisted on opening it and rubbing away the mystery.

The library on Tomorrow would have a librarian that could restore an old book. Hiccup could go there. Tomorrow. The island where a King of Vikings was elected.

The King of Vikings. You could only become one if the tribes all had a common enemy. The way Grimmel talked, it sounded like he already had the crown in hand. That they had found a common enemy in Berk.

It didn’t add up. If other tribes declared war on Berk, they would have shown up with armies. And Hiccup didn’t attack other tribes; he went for the remains of Drago’s army.

He closed the book carefully and hugged it to his chest. Then he rummaged through the rest of them. The ledger still had Stoick’s large, careful blocky runes. The man was impatient when he came to writing, but he did it because it was his job. His handwriting meant a part of him was still on Berk, had survived what Grimmel had intended to wipe out with his flames. Hiccup pressed his nose to the page, trying to smell any scent his father might have left behind. That familiar brine of the sea, mixed with the embers of old fires and mead.

“Hiccup!” Astrid’s voice came from above. “We know you’re there.” 

He blinked, coming out of his reverie. Then he groaned. Busted.

“Hiccup!” She sounded angry. “Come out of there right now! You’re supposed to be resting!”

“Toothless!” he called back with mild irritation. “You were supposed to keep watch. Where was the signal?”

There was an apologetic warble and some squawking chuckles from Stormfly. Hiccup could picture the scene: Toothless keeping watch, and Astrid and Stormfly greeting him. The few minutes of distraction would be all that Toothless would need to forget to signal, especially when Astrid asked the dragon where his rider was.

Hiccup sighed. Then he grabbed the rest of the books. There would surely be a metal box where he could keep them, that no fire could touch. When Trader Johann came, there would be more books to acquire, to replace the ones he lost. Books were not people, after all. They were things. Things that made you feel joy, or sorrow.

Perhaps that was why Chucklehead never learned how to read. He didn’t want to face that pain.


	4. Chapter 4

“A King of Vikings,” Eret mused. “Grimmel is ambitious, but he’s not charismatic. To claim he is a king without an army is odd.”

“That’s what I said!” Hiccup said.

They were sitting in the makeshift chief chambers. Hiccup was propped on a pile of leather and fur, resting his back. Toothless occupied most of the lower half of the bed and was playfully batting at Hiccup’s peg leg. His soft blows sent vibrations up Hiccup’s thighs, making the metal rattle. 

“The issue is if he’s turned the other tribes against Berk as a common enemy, like Gobber said,” Hiccup frowned. “But then we would hear an open declaration of war.”

“Unless he lied to try and gain authority over you in the moment,” Astrid said. “It’s not like all Vikings are obligated to be honest.”

“It would be like him,” Eret agreed. “He would do and say anything to win the prey during the hunt.”

They quieted when Gothi came in with a steaming pot of tea and a mug. Terrors followed her, trying to take sips from the pot. She tossed her head at them with silent, amused glares.

“When can I get up, Gothi?” Hiccup asked. “I think I’m going to need to make a long journey.”

She snorted and set the tea on a boulder that was serving as a table. Steam swirled out as she poured the mug.

“I take it that means not for a while,” Astrid said. “Are you thinking of flying?”

Gothi kept staring at them. She handed the mug to Hiccup, who sniffed at the bitter herbs, and swallowed it. His tongue hated him for doing that.

“I’m thinking about flying, but I have a feeling I’m grounded,” Hiccup said as he tried to swallow the burns away. “Tomorrow do you think?” Gothi stared at him, before grabbing a stick and drawing in the dirt. Hiccup craned his neck to read it.

“Another day? I can live with that,” he said.

“We need to be on guard, wisewoman,” Eret cautioned. “Grimmel is not the type who will give up. If we wait a day, I insist that we double the patrols, to make sure that he doesn’t try for a repeat performance. And I should have Skullcrusher make sure that Grimmel is not on the island again. ”

He and Gothi locked eyes. Hiccup wondered if the wisewoman would whack Eret for his cautious but sound advice.

“Double the patrols, then,” Hiccup said. “I trust you, Eret.”

Gothi walked out, the Terrors following in her wake. Hiccup sat up straight. He beckoned Astrid and Eret closer.

“Grimmel wants me and Toothless. So we need to leave tonight if we only have a day.”’

“What?” Astrid mouthed.

“We need to make plans. You need to get my mother. Does anyone have paper that wasn’t burnt? Wooden models? Maps?”

“Your father’s carvings weren’t touched,” Astrid said quietly. “His old scale model of Berk. It was kept in the Great Hall.”

“That will do,” Hiccup said, and he tried to swallow the lump that appeared in his throat. At least that had survived the blaze.

#

“So here is how we’re going to negotiate the trip to Tomorrow.” Hiccup picked up his old father’s models to make his case. “We need a small force that can show up and be a force of strength. But we are not there to fight.” 

Valka leaned next to her son and stroked her late husband’s work. The wooden carving of Berk was remarkable. It had been a long winter when Stoick had been bedridden with a bad cold, and Hiccup had to fill in with chiefing duties. Stoick would only stay in bed when he was carving, so he had asked for a large chunk of wood. Hiccup had sharpened his knives multiple times so that his father wouldn’t jump out into the bitter cold.

Stoick had painted Toothless’s model a deep, rich black. Hiccup picked it up and placed it to the model of himself; Stoick had detailed the buck teeth Hiccup used to have.

“Toothless and I will go, obviously, and Eret is coming with us. Eret knows Grimmel best. I’ll take the main riders, since we’ve been in battle before, anyone who can be discreet. Astrid, you and my mother will stay on Berk to guard from another attack from Grimmel.”

“I’m not letting you go alone,” Astrid said. “Well, you know.”

“I should come too,” Valka said. “You’re walking into a beast’s den.”

“If anything happens to me, you and Astrid are the only people who can leave Berk,” Hiccup said firmly. “Astrid is engaged to me and practically chieftainess. Otherwise Snotlout is the next in line. And Mom, you know the dragons best and how to protect them.”

Astrid shuddered at the thought of Snotlout being chief. Valka pondered. 

“Astrid has no legal claim to chieftainess until you are married,” she said. “I’ll stay on Berk then. But I don’t like it. I haven’t ruled people in a long time. And if anything happens-”

“It’s going to be a short trip,” Hiccup reassured her. “Just go in, make our case, and come back.” 

“The twins and Snotlout don’t do stealth well,” Astrid warned. “We haven’t sneaked out in ages.”

“We just need to fly off Berk before Gothi can catch up to us,” Hiccup said. “And besides which, I’m chief. I don’t need to take her advice.”

They all fell silent. Even Hiccup knew how silly that sounded. Gothi was the Village Elder. He didn’t want to earn a dozen whacks on returning.

“We should leave in shifts,” Eret said. “Valka can go to Gothi to ask for a sleeping draught, and distract her. We three can leave first; then Snotlout and the twins can follow with Fishlegs.”

“Fishlegs is going to kill us,” Astrid said.

“What is he going to do, lecture us to death?” Eret snorted. “You all did this before. Sneaking out, flying in groups. We can meet at a rendezvous point and then fly on toward Tomorrow. If any threat is coming to Berk tonight, we’ll spot them. Skullcrusher and I can do one last patrol before leaving.”

“Okay, then it’s settled,” Hiccup said. “We’ll go out and plead our case to the other chiefs in tomorrow. If Grimmel comes after Toothless and me, then at least he won’t attack the village again. And we won’t be alone when he attacks.”

“I still don’t like this,” Valka frowned. “Having the fight away from Berk, away from your home. It’s hard to fight away from the place you know.”

“And we’ve done it before.” Hiccup gave a wan, tired smile to Astrid. “Dozens of times. And we’ll do it again.”

“I only got you back a short while ago,” Valka said. “It would kill me if I lost you again.”

“We can’t wait for Grimmel to attack and burn down the village again,” Hiccup said. “If there’s a peaceful way to avoid a war, then I want to take it. Berk is our home. I know our people will fight for it, but if we can convince other minds, then isn’t it worth trying to avoid a war?”

“Drago’s mind couldn’t be changed,” Valka reminded him.

“That’s why I want Eret along.” Hiccup nodded at the former Hunter. “He knows people. If it gets too dangerous, you’ll know. And then we leave.”

Eret swallowed. His Adam’s apple throbbed with tension.

“I appreciate your faith in me, Chief. I won’t let you down.”

* * *

Grimmel smirked. He watched from the distant woods. It was far enough that none of the scouts could find him, but close enough to get perspective.

The scent of thick perfumes hung heavy over him. He used the oils on himself and his dragon so Eret couldn’t find them. The former Trapper was a competent tracker, but even he couldn’t think outside the box. Or the crate as it were.

A cluster of dragons, flying in shifts. The two-headed Zippleback was fighting with the Monstrous Nightmare, slowing the way down. The Night Fury had left a few hours ago, with a Nadder in tow. The Rumblehorn would take up the rear. With such a party, they’d have to make constant stops. Grimmel’s ride would outfly the lot because it never stopped. He made sure of it.

“That’s right,” Grimmel whispered. “Fly closer to Tomorrow, to where I’ll be waiting.”

He tapped the dragon he was riding. It blinked a drugged eye, and shook itself out. Then its scarred wings open, so as to leap into the night.


	5. Chapter 5

Hiccup had gone on long flights with Toothless before. He had flown with the dragon for days on end, sometimes with a large retinue in tow. There had been the time they had flown for hours to the Isle of Night, which was a trap.

This felt different, however. He had never flown to the island of Tomorrow. For one, the place had exiled his ancestors. According to the story, Chucklehead had a good reason to leave Tomorrow for Berk, and he never looked back. It was said that the seas near the island had an eerie calm for the most part of the year, which would strand ships miles from the shore. You had to row carefully because dozens of shallow reefs lay below which could tear apart decks and rudders. And there were Sharkworms, carnivorous dragons that swam for the scent of blood. They only occupied this part of the water.

A sense of dread overcame Hiccup as if he was violating an ancient taboo. With dragons, they were flying well above the water so any Sharkworms or coral reefs would not ground them. He hoped that Tomorrow didn’t have an anti-dragon armada. 

His friends also were oddly sober. Normally the twins would punch each other mid-air, Fishlegs would be rambling about all the species, and Snotlout would boast about all the heroics he would encounter. But only quiet followed, with Eret occasionally mentioning the landmarks they passed. Perhaps it was the memory of their village burning down. 

He had packed the book, of course. Toothless had helped him smuggle the old volume into his bag. The Librarian on the Island of Tomorrow could fix the pages, and wipe away the blackened dried ink from that page. It was in his pack.

The telltale Sharkworm fins came into view. It looked like they were feeding on a beached sea creature. The creatures paid no attention to the dragons above.

The island came into view. Torn flags fluttered from splintered pikes. Piles of rocks crumbled on the shore; Hiccup could picture them as once pillars, forging themselves into existence. The ruins of a castle standing on the sand, on an island with beach and bog.

Guards with hoods stood on the shoreline, and there was an armed dock. Shouts as a guard saw the retinue of dragons.

"Hiccup?" Astrid and Stormfly flew closer to him. "Are you okay?" You have a funny expression on your face.

"It's smaller than I thought it was," Hiccup whispered. "The way it's told in the story, it's supposed to be a continent."

But of course, it would be smaller. The fairy tales and stories passed down always exaggerated. Some people claimed that Hiccup, the slayer of the Red Death, was ten feet tall and could tame dragons with his fingertips. Hiccup preferred to use his palms in such a manner.

"And also I'm scared," Hiccup said.

"I'm scared too," she admitted. "We've never been to this part of the world. It's forbidden for a reason."

The reason being that the Berkians were exiled, several hundred years ago. But now there wasn't a choice. Besides, so much had changed. Once, Vikings fought dragons. Once runts were painted away from their father's portraits. But now it was different. 

"We have to try," Hiccup said. "It's all we can do."

Astrid reached out, and grasped Hiccup's shoulder pads. Then she had to pull away because Stormfly was grumbling. They didn't have to be close for this part anyway.

Hiccup pulled out a large flag from his pack. He tossed it to Toothless and Stormfly. The dragons' claws unfurled the banner. A large red flag, that showed they were from Berk, with the crest and a portrait of his father

They waited; while boats could dock while seeking permission and safe harbor, Hiccup wasn't sure about the policies on dragons or dragon riders. The guards raised their bows and arrows.

"We can take them on," Snotlout said.

"Shh!" Hiccup said, though no one on the beach could hear any conversation in the air. "We're not here to cause a fight." 

If worse came to worse, they would leave, and Hiccup would submit to Gothi's prescribed bed-rest.

Moments passed. Then the archers lowered their weapons. One gestured for the riders to land. Hiccup released a breath and felt his chest lighten.

“That was the easy part,” he joked to Astrid and Toothless.

* * *

The beach on Tomorrow was damp and gritty. The dragon’s beating wings sent up clouds of harsh sand. Toothless sneezed. Hiccup coughed. He placed a hand to his chest, wondering if maybe Gothi was right and he shouldn’t have traveled so far.

“Greetings, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third.” The Guardian of Tomorrow bowed to him stiffly. “It has been centuries since we last saw a Haddock on these shores.”

“Well, here we are now.” Hiccup pulled his lips back in a nervous grin, and offered his hand, hoping to be friendly. “I hope we aren’t still exiled.”

Beneath the Guardian’s hood, eyes gleamed like hard marbles. They did not blink. He didn’t offer his hand. Hiccup withdrew his. 

“No, you are not.” The Guardian turned away. “Time heals all wounds, they say. Maybe they can heal your wounds. Come. You must all be tired. We have quarters for your dragons, and a midday breakfast. I hope you like boar bacon.”

He walked along the beach. A few Guardians with bows and arrows followed. Hiccup gestured for everyone to dismount and follow.

“So, those are the Guardians.” Fishlegs’s voice cracked on the fake cheer. “Very formal, aren’t they?”

“They’re kinda weird,” Snotlout whispered as the riders dismounted.

“If you’re bound to an island to serve the ruins and all the people that come and go, you would act similarly,” Eret said. “They have to bear the weight of this island’s history. But history is crumbling all around us. Look.”

“Oh I love it when he speaks poetry,” Ruffnut gushed.

“Speak for yourself,” Tuffnut said. “That sounded more like a melodramatic soliloquy.”

Hiccup eyed the remains of the Castle of Tomorrow. He had to admit that Eret had a point. On Berk, they would have torn down such stones and used them for repairs. A hazard of when dragons burned down your huts all the time. Here, the past remained, and it hung over the beach. No wonder Chucklehead left and ceded any claim he might have had to the throne.

They walked, nervously. Toothless cleaned sand out of his ears. Hiccup wiped off his rider’s front. He noted scratched markings in the castle stones. The slabs rested at odd angles. Thick spiderwebs filled some of the cracks.

Hordes of Vikings marched toward what remained of the great hall.

A familiar figure caught Hiccup’s eyes; he stumbled on his boots. Grimmel, talking with several other chiefs with other colors.

“Is that Eret, son of Eret?” A loud whisper rang. “I heard the man went soft for a dragon.”

Eret’s jaw clenched. Nonetheless, he stayed by Hiccup’s side and didn’t even reach for his knife. Skullcrusher growled.

Grimmel caught Hiccup’s gaze and smirked, not looking worse for wear from their skirmish a few days ago. Hiccup’s forehead twinged; he rubbed against the pain.

“He can’t hurt you here,” Eret reassured Hiccup. “He wouldn’t dare. The Island of Tomorrow cannot breach hospitality.”

“I’m not scared of him,” Hiccup lied. “I just can’t figure out how he beat us to the island. Didn’t you say he’d be focused on Berk?”

“He ought to be,” Eret frowned. “This is a long trip, even if by a dragon. We ought to have arrived at the same time.”

“This is a good thing,” Astrid said, forcing a smile. “If Grimmel is here, then it means that he can’t attack Berk for Toothless. You and Toothless are here. In plain sight. With us defending you. Eret, Fishlegs, the twins, Snotlout, and me, and our dragons. Against another army with unknown numbers. ”

Horror crept into her tone. Fishlegs’s jaw opened and closed. Even the twins stood up straight as they walked. The dragons huddled close to their riders.

“Did he want us to come?” Hiccup murmured. “I imagine stealing Toothless from Berk the second time would be harder. We’d be waiting for him, ready to fight.” “Don’t be silly,” Eret said, but even he sounded uncertain. “How could he predict you would be here on Tomorrow when your family hasn’t flown here in years?”

“We’re only safe for as long as we stay,” Hiccup realized. “We have to be careful when we leave. Otherwise, we’re subject to ambush.”

He hadn’t eaten since they had stopped on an island to take a quick rest, but his appetite left. It felt weird to be chewing on boar bacon when the man who kidnapped and poisoned him waited a short distance away.

“Well, look on the bright side,” Tuffnut said. “The man isn’t King of Vikings. Or we’d be dead on sight.”

“You’d be dead on sight,” Ruffnut corrected him. “I’d use your corpse as a human shield.”

That was a tiny bright side. Hiccup couldn’t take any joy in it, even with the twins’ jokes.


	6. Chapter 6

Valka hadn't taken leading duties in a while, with people at least. She was better with dragons, where the dragons had simple agendas. As the chief's wife, which she had been a long time ago, it had been harder when her notions clashed with those of other Vikings.

Her day had started with an old lady marching in with tea. Valka had waited by her son's empty bed, having made sure she had removed all the stuffies that Hiccup had used as a decoy Gothi had read her the riot act. Rather, Gothi had drawn it in the dirt in fury and tried to hit her. Valka had caught the stick and dug her heels into the ground. They grunted against each other.

Gothi's eyes told Valka what she had probably drawn: "What were you thinking in letting him go when he needs his bed rest?"

"And who would I be if I stopped my son from trying to prevent a war?" Valka retorted. She craned her neck to look at the runes in the dirt.

Gothi pulled her stick free. She rapped Valka's arm; the armor took most of the blow. Valka still recoiled; the wise woman was old, but she had a punch.

"I remember when you took down Stoick with a blow like that before our wedding," she couldn't help but recall. "Aye, he listened to you. Can we call a truce?"

Gothi glared at her. Then she leaned her stick on the ground and gave a curt nod.

"I know. I wish he had stayed as well," Valka said. "But you know him. Stubborn like his father. And he wants to do what's right. Shall we have breakfast together?"

Gothi wouldn't walk beside her; she strode ahead with confidence. She was obviously not going to have breakfast with Valka. 

Valka shook her head. The next step was to oversee the village's rebuilding progress. Without the twins, at least no one would be blowing up the lumber on purpose.

She talked with Helga, one of Stoick's former generals, about the Timberjack cutting down the nearby forest. Helga made sure to replant saplings, but she fretted at how much burned. Before, Berk had been a relatively small village, and their fire system after was enough to prevent any mishaps. Grimmel taking down every building in one night was a concern.

"I don't think we have enough wood on Berk to fix it all of the houses," Helga said with worry. "We can trade for hardy lumber, but that may take time because we don't know when the traders are next due to come."

"Can we use a substitute in the meantime?" Valka pressed. "Or shall we cut down trees from nearby islands?"

"We could, but I worry that it leaves Berk open to another attack. Grimmel made our forces look like fools."

"Take a team with you," Valka urged her. "If we need assistance, we'll send up a distress signal. Stoick's ghost will not haunt you for reinforcing his village."

Helga managed a laugh that turned into a cough from the smoke. Valka walked away, pondering. Grimmel was not that much different from Drago; the main difference was that he was more hands-on with his darts and destruction; Drago always made sure to cower behind the Bewilderwest.

It was a concern that Grimmel had actually managed to succeed where Drago had failed: in destroying the village and the chief's confidence. Cloudjumper shared her sentiment. He drew in the dirt as he walked, and his horns furrowed.

If not for her promise to Hiccup to watch over the village, she would have taken Cloudjumper after Grimmel. It was what she was best at; finding Dragon Trappers and destroying them with fire and ice.

She had to trust that her son knew what he was doing. Hiccup believed in preventing war. Surely he would be safe. He wasn’t alone on the Island of Tomorrow. She had a job to do and she couldn’t ignore her son’s wishes again.

It took effort for her to watch over the team that Helga assembled. Cloudjumper flapped his wings and grumbled irritably at the baby dragons. Moose, the large dragon they had rescued earlier, was allowing the Vikings to use him to carry the lumber they needed. Valka stroked him, hoping that the Goregutter would be able to defend the village again.

* * *

Hiccup preferred his bacon fresh off the stove, and eaten with his friends in the Great Hall. His stomach turned as he chewed on the dried bacon offered with eggs.

The Great Hall on Tomorrow was filled with dusty walls, and cobwebs among the dust. Larger webs coated holes in the window. He wondered if Chucklehead had left because of the large spiders. Fishlegs hadn’t taken a bite of food, despite being exhausted; he kept stealing glances at the large arachnids.

“So, this is the place from where we were exiled,” Hiccup said, trying to sound snarky. “I guess we weren’t missing much.”

“Don’t be disrespectful, Hiccup,” Astrid hissed. “We have to win these people over to make sure they don’t declare war on us.”

“I think if they wanted to declare war, they wouldn’t give us breakfast.” Tuffnut was chewing on a cold mutton leg.

“They have to abide by sacred hospitality,” Fishlegs said. “Why hasn’t anyone cleaned this place?”

“It’s a place of ghosts,” Eret said, chewing on cold bacon. “That’s why. They don’t want to make anything permanent and tempt fate again.”

Toothless was eyeing the spiders. His tail and butt swung back and forth as if he wanted to pounce on the walls and gobble them up legs first. 

“Toothless, no,” Hiccup said firmly. “First that’s disgusting, and second, they may be the Guardian’s pets.”

Toothless slumped to the ground with disappointment. He was the only dragon who had refused to go to the stables. The Guardians hadn’t argued. They viewed him and merely tightened their hoods.

Grimmel ate without care. He had taken several plates of dried bacon and eggs and was laughing with several Trappers. Hiccup tensed. He swallowed some of his breakfast; bits of bacon seemed to lodge in his throat.

The sundial that was also covered in cobwebs changed angles. Grimmel stood, holding a goblet of water. His eyes glittered with malice.

"We are all here because we have a common enemy," he said. "A common enemy that has terrorized all of us. One that for all we know may approach soon."

"Don't say anything yet," Eret whispered. "He's setting the stage and to goad you into appearing unreasonable."

Hiccup hadn't even realized he had prepared to stand. Astrid pressed a gloved hand to his upper arm.

"We'll have a chance to say our bit," she whispered. "Just hold on."

"You have all been terrorized. Driven to flee here to Tomorrow," he said. "Our lands ravaged, our sheep stolen. All because of one dragon."

Toothless growled. Hiccup reached out to scratch the scales behind Toothless's ears. He knew exactly what his dragon was feeling.

"And now we have a Red Death hunting us all down, one by one, we must choose a leader that can handle it."

A pause. Eret blinked. Toothless stopped mid-growl.

“What?” Hiccup mouthed.

"Aye." One chief stood. "A mysterious beast came in the night and laid waste to the Peaceable Islands. At least with the other dragons, there would be hundreds of them that we stood a chance of beating. But this one doesn't even give us time to retaliate."

"I cannot even lay my father in his final resting place, because the Red Death melted his icy tomb," a larger chief stood up; his chair had cushions. "And it also fired at me in the rear! What does it say that I have a flaming behind and that I cannot sleep properly? My papa would not have approved of his son Norbert the Nutjob being treated so disrespectfully."

"I don't think he's referring to us raiding the Dragon Trapper factions," Ruffnut whispered with an aura of confidentiality.

"Yeah, I kinda figured," Hiccup replied snarkily. Disbelief mixed his nerves. What was Grimmel's game, if the Berkians weren't the common enemy?

Other chiefs spoke up: they mentioned a mysterious large dragon that had emerged in the night and burned down all of their land.

"With all of these concerns, should you not put your faith in a leader that has a reputation for defeating the strongest dragons?" Grimmel urged. "I am the one who can defeat this Red Death. Can anyone else claim such daring feats?"

"Hiccup's beaten a Red Death!" Tuffnut shouted.

Another pause. Hiccup didn't even have time to process the words.

"Who?" Norbert the Nutjob said.

"Yes, Chief Hiccup of the Berkian tribe," Eret said, standing. "The tale has surely reached your ears. When he was a lad, Hiccup rode a Night Fury and flew to battle a Red Death in the skies. And he lost his leg for it."

Eyes fell on Hiccup's peg leg. He shifted his weight. Toothless glared at all of the VIking tribes.

"Perhaps it did happen," Grimmel said. "His tribe will certainly back him up. But even if it did, the chief is a mere boy. He hasn't properly led."

That was a good point, Hiccup had to admit. He hadn't led his tribe for a long time, compared to his father.

"Have you actually killed a Red Death?" Norbert asked. "Have either of you?"

"I have my experience," Grimmel said.

"Yes," Hiccup replied. "We had to draw it into a dive and trigger its firepower. We were both lucky to make it out alive. "

The hall silenced. Something had changed, but Hiccup wasn’t sure if this was a good or bad thing. Grimmel’s calm had vanished.

“Do you even have any proof?” he demanded. “For all we know, you may have lied about the Red Death perishing.”

“We were all there,” Astrid spoke up. “We all rode on dragons and faced that thing.”

“It was super cool!” Tuffnut said.

“I hit that dragon in the eye with a hammer!” Snotlout bragged.

“I can offer stats on how big it was and that it didn’t have a blind spot,” Fishlegs offered.

“All your tribesmen obviously vouch for you,” Grimmel sneered. “But obviously they will not speak against their chief. And no outsiders here were witnesses to the battle.”

“You don’t have proof either,” Eret retorted. “Show us the skull of the Red Death you defeated. Who are your witnesses?”

That silenced Grimmel. He clutched his goblet as if it were a throwing knife.

“Hiccup would make a better king than Grimmel,” Eret went on. “He has protected his tribe for years when his father fell in battle. He took me in when Drago Bludivist sentenced me to death. I was an outsider, and once an enemy, but I’ve seen the Chief of Berk at his finest. He protected me, and he will protect all of you.”

Hiccup wanted to hiss at Eret to shut up. He didn’t like the way Grimmel stared daggers at him.

“It seems we have two potential contenders,” the head Guardian said. “You have your choice, as you did hundreds of years ago. Spend this day wisely, Vikings and heroes, and gather your evidence. You will be deciding who rules your future.”

That didn’t sound good. Before Hiccup could stand up and tell everyone that he didn’t want to be king, Astrid tugged on his sleeve.

“I think you’re stuck, babe,” she whispered. “If you back down now, they’ll go for Grimmel. And then Berk would be toast.”

Hiccup growled. Of course.


End file.
